Chapter 2 — The Horse in the Forest

The search party entered the woods before sunset.

Six strong men followed Midnight’s hoofprints.

Samuel Reed led them.

Behind him rode Thomas Whitmore, the owner’s eldest son.

“We’ll have him before dark,” Thomas said confidently.

But Midnight knew the forest better than they did.

Every time the men came close, the stallion disappeared between the trees.

They shouted.

They chased.

They threw ropes.

Nothing worked.

Then darkness began to fall.

“We’ll have to continue tomorrow,” Samuel said.

Thomas slammed his fist against the saddle.

“That horse cost my father a fortune!”

From farther down the trail, a quiet voice spoke.

“You’re chasing him.”

Everyone turned.

Eliza stood there.

Thomas stared at her.

“What are you doing here?”

“I know where he is.”

A few men laughed.

Samuel frowned.

“You?”

Eliza pointed toward the trees.

“He’s near the creek.”

Thomas shook his head.

“We’ve searched the creek.”

“You searched for a horse.”

Eliza looked at him calmly.

“I listened for one.”

The men fell silent.

She walked toward the trees.

“Midnight is frightened. Every time you chase him, he thinks you’re trying to trap him.”

Thomas scoffed.

“And what exactly are you going to do?”

“Nothing.”

He blinked.

“What?”

“I am going to stop chasing him.”

Eliza entered the forest alone.

The others followed reluctantly.

After several minutes, she raised her hand.

“Stay here.”

Samuel whispered, “Miss Hart, this is dangerous.”

Eliza shook her head.

“He won’t hurt me.”

She continued toward the creek.

Then she saw him.

Midnight stood beneath a giant oak tree.

His sides were heaving.

One front leg was caught between two fallen branches.

The horse’s eyes were wide with terror.

Eliza didn’t approach directly.

She sat down.

Several yards away.

She placed her hands on her knees.

And waited.

Midnight watched her.

The forest became silent.

Minutes passed.

The men behind her grew impatient.

But Eliza didn’t move.

She remembered something her father had once told her.

“A frightened creature doesn’t need someone stronger than its fear.

It needs someone quieter than it.”

So Eliza waited.

Finally, Midnight lowered his head.

One step.

Then another.

He came closer.

Eliza whispered,

“That’s right.”

The stallion stopped beside her.

She slowly reached out her hand.

Midnight smelled her fingers.

Then he rested his enormous head against her shoulder.

Behind the trees, nobody spoke.

The men who had spent hours trying to overpower the horse were watching a girl they had called ugly do something they couldn’t.

She had earned his trust.